


Growing into his Paws

by tersa (alix)



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot, Porn, Rare Pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-19
Updated: 2011-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-22 20:15:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alix/pseuds/tersa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabela loved to tease Carver back when he was nineteen and fresh off the boat...but six years later, Grey Warden Carver is back in Kirkwall with something to prove: that he's no longer a 'puppy'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growing into his Paws

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ in May 2011

>   
> [_Courtesy of the wiki_](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Carver/Dialogue):  
>  Act I
> 
>   * **Carver** : So, Isabela. You captained a ship? That's a lot of men to handle. For you to command.  
> 
>   * **Isabela** : Well aren't you just adorable fumbling for a topic.  
> 
>   * **Carver** : You say that like I'm harmless.  
> 
>   * **Isabela** : As harmless as a pup that will someday grow into its fangs and sink them deep.  
> 
>   * **Carver** : Sure, keep teasing. I'll show you how much of a pup I am.  
> 
>   * **Isabela** : I know. That's why I do it.
> 


**  
_Act III_   
**

He’d been waiting years for this moment.

“Carver,” Isabela purred, pulling away from her usual spot belly up to the bar at the Hanged Man to face him. One hip tilted just so, parting the fabric of her tunic and bringing attention to the lean lines of her bare legs down to the high boots.

He’d dreamt of those legs for years, even before he joined the Wardens, that particular pose, beckoning a man—or woman—with one casual shifting of weight. But he was no longer the inexperienced child he was back then. “Isabela,” he greeted her in return, leaning up against the bar.

Her eyes widened along with her smile. “Well, well, well,” she said under her breath, running her gaze slowly up him from boots to face. “Haven’t _you_ grown up nicely, puppy. You have grown up, haven’t you?” she teased.

A corner of his mouth went up in a sly smile. “Wouldn’t _you_ like to find out.”

She threw her head back and laughed, dark hair curling enticingly around her long neck, the sound sending a sensual frisson down his spine. “Yes, I just might at that,” she replied, stepping closer to him. He inhaled sharply and his nose filled with the scent of her, musk and leather and salt, which went right past his brain and straight to his groin. Her eyes sparkled with mischief—she knew the effect she was having, and reveled in it. She lifted a finger and placed it on his chestplate, over his thumping heart. Musingly, she said, “I had your brother once, when he was around your age.”

Anger boiled up, contorting his features. All the old hurt, all the old feelings of inadequacy welled up and threatened to choke him. To make it worse, Isabela lifted an eyebrow expectantly for him to respond. “So now you want to have me to compare, and find me lacking?”

Her brow furrowed, and she brought her finger up from his chest to his chin, lifting it. He thought about slapping her hand away. Instead, he set his jaw and glared down at her. With the barest pressure, she swiveled his head, this way and that, to examine his face, finally saying, “You are not your brother.”

“No, shit,” he snapped.

She dropped her hand and gave him a mocking smile. Turning on her heel, she headed towards the stairs, giving him a fine view of her ass barely covered by the tail of her shirt and accentuated by the belt hugging her waist. She lifted a leg up to the first riser and, coyly, looked back over her shoulder at him. “If you want to prove it, come up to my room.” She continued mounting the stairs and disappeared down the hall with a whirl of white fabric exposing even more skin.

He seethed. One simple sentence, and he was undone. He clenched his hands and rested them on the bar, focusing on watching the knuckles turn white until the joints cracked. He was not a child anymore. He’d survived the Joining, survived the Deep Roads more than once, and served as a Warden for years. He was a valued and respected member of that group, making a name for himself—he was chosen to be part of Howe’s mission to the old thaig because _he_ had been there, not just his brother. Why did he let her words strip all that from him?

Besides, he wanted her. He’d always wanted her.

With a shove, he pushed himself away from the bar and followed after her. Six years, and he could still remember this hallway—Varric probably still occupied that room at the head of the stairs--and he held his breath hoping the dwarf wouldn’t materialize suddenly and spot him, until he’d long passed it. Turn the corner, and there her door was, left ajar. He stopped and stared at it—he couldn’t hear any movement inside—but he needed that moment to steel himself before he pushed it open with determination.

There was no one in there. He blinked, frowning, and took a step inside, looking around, behind the door. No one.

The point of a knife pricked him between a seam in his armor near his hip, on the other side, a brown arm curved up and around his chest. “Still not the most observant of puppies, though,” Isabela murmured with amusement against his ear. “Now, what should I do with you?”

His breathing quickened. She was a pressure against his back, but he could imagine her breasts flattening against his shoulders, her hips against his butt. He remained frozen though, unwilling to risk injury in a stupid gesture. He’d learned that much.

She noticed his caution, and chuckled. “Unbuckle,” she ordered.

Carefully, as she hadn’t moved the knife, he did so. With a tug, she directed him towards the room’s table, and he began piling pieces up on it. She unwound herself when it got to the breastplate, and the knife disappeared. He laid the armor aside carefully, then whirled, grabbing her shoulders. She still had the knife in her hand but he ignored it, yanking her towards him and crushing her against his body, mouth covering hers in a devouring kiss which she returned with equal fervor…until she bit his lower lip.

With a hiss, he drew back his head and put his fingers up to his lips gingerly, checking for blood. There it was, bright scarlet on his fingertips and his gaze flickered to her face, where the tip of her tongue darted out and licked more from her lips, eyes locked with his the entire time.

His nostrils flared and he met her gaze back in challenge. Hands went to removing the rest of his armor, laying it aside without watching where it went. She sheathed the knife, put her hands to her hips, and waited, sizing him up like he was a long-anticipated meal.

And maybe he was.

He was hard by the time he’d stripped down to the underlining, her gaze breaking to travel down and observe it, her eyelids half-closing as she smiled appreciatively. She closed the distance then, hands coming up to either side of his head as she began kissing him again, continuing to move until she was pressed against him fully, continuing even more so that he was forced to step back else fall back, step after step until he felt the wall slam against his back. The contact knocked the wind out of him and jolted him with a burst of lust. His hands went to her ass, grabbing it and eliciting a throaty moan of encouragement out of her so did it again, enjoying the feel of her thighs grinding against his engorged cock.

Impatiently, she released his face and lowered her hands to grab at the waistband of his pants, pulling out of his grasp in order to yank the leggings down, exposing him. With a wicked smile, she dropped to her knees and took him in her mouth. It was all he could do not to explode right then and there, feeling her clever tongue twirling around the shaft and head, the pulling tug of suction drawing him out. His fingers tangled in her hair, clasping her skull and he groaned, pushing into the attention, riding the rising crest of pleasure. No longer a child, he knew when he was nearing the edge of no return and pulled her away before he reached it, using the grip on her hair to haul her back to her feet. Her eyes were glassy with desire, her lips swollen and wet and he kissed her, tongue delving deeply. His hands went to her waist, shaking but sure, and found the thin fabric of her smallclothes, ripping them down her thighs. She whimpered at the force, then again when he grabbed her ass once more and used his grip to lift her from her feet, turning to pin her to the wall. Strong, muscular legs rose to encircle his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back, and her hands came back to his face to hold him there, kiss deepening even more.

Curving away from her torso, a hand left off holding her up to wedge between them, groping until his fingertips found the turgid bump of her nipple through her shirt and circled it, a moan coming from deep in her throat. The circle became a pinch, and she squeaked, then a stroke that caused her to shudder. Breaking off the kiss, he caught her attention with a look and brought his hand up to touch forefinger and thumb to her mouth--her tongue flickered out and laved the tips, sucking on them, making him tremble. Without glancing away, he dropped to slide under the collar of her shirt and over her breast, finding the nipple again with the dampened fingers.

Her eyes widened in surprise, then approval before fluttering closed as she squirmed against him. Her breath was coming in short pants now, goading him on, and he re-captured her mouth, slipping his hand out from under her shirt to worm downwards, creating space to find the wet slit between her legs and caressing the pearl hidden in the folds. She growled, long and low, and he increased the tempo, until she was pushing against his hand counter to his motion, taking her own pleasure from it, tearing out of the kiss to press her cheek against his, grunts becoming rhythmic, breathy cries as she reached her peak.

He fumbled with his cock, searching for entrance until he found it and dropped her carefully to slide down his length. Her head tilted back against the wall, baring her throat as her thighs flexed, pressing down on his waist to lever herself, pulling up his shaft then plunging down. Her nails dug into the nape of his neck and he cried out a gasp, losing a measure of control as he began thrusting into her depth, in time with her. Recklessly, he buried his face into her shoulder, and took the flesh in his mouth, clamping down with his teeth. She screamed, her back bowing as her hips slammed against his and shuddered violently in her release. The sensation of her inner self squeezing, rippling over his manhood brought him to intoxicating euphoria, and he came, spending himself.

She slumped in his grasp, becoming dead weight except for the grip on his waist. He shivered in the aftermath, leaning against her hard to allow gravity and friction to do what his muscles were incapable of, to hold her up. His heart pounded in his chest and breath coming in dizzying gulps, until his pulse began to slow and his breathing to even out.

“The puppy has grown fangs,” she said, her voice full of lazy satiation.

He turned his head a fraction to bring his mouth up to the shell of her ear. “What?”

She quivered, and her nails stroked a line down his neck, nearly painful with how sensitized his skin still was. She unhooked her legs, letting them fall. He lowered her to the ground but kept his arms around her, dropping his chin and burying his nose in her hair, to breathe in the scent of it, memorizing. Bemusement laced her tone as she said, “I need to remember to thank Faith.”

His confusion grew. “Why?”

“She taught you well,” Isabela replied in a purr, then added, “You should have taken your brother with you, though.” Even as worn out as he was, he tensed, and she chuckled at his reaction, which stung further. “Easy, stud,” she teased in a soft voice, and explained, “He obviously needed the practice.”

It took him a moment to brush off the cobwebs still clouding his brain to work through her words, but when he did he relaxed, breaking into a smile. Bringing her chin up with the knuckle of his forefinger, he brushed his lips against hers. “Thank you.”

“No longer a puppy,” she murmured with a grin.


End file.
